


Into Thin Air

by an_abounding_sentiment



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, One Shot, anatole isnt a dick, im a bitch for highschool AUs, marya and helene are v gay, more stories no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:31:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_abounding_sentiment/pseuds/an_abounding_sentiment
Summary: Marya hasn't seen Helene, nonetheless heard from her in too long for Marya stand looking at Anatole's sulking any longer





	Into Thin Air

**Author's Note:**

> Oof.
> 
> I didn't read this over so I apologize in advance!

Marya didn’t realize how much she loved Hélène until she lost her. Until suddenly, Hélène wasn’t sitting in her lap during lunch anymore. Until the texts stopped. Until that radiant smile didn’t beam brighter once it found Marya’s eyes. The redhead hated that she never got the chance to say goodbye. Their last kiss was the same goodbye they had for a year and a half, and now Marya sat in study hall and wished she kissed Hélène longer. Wished she told Helene how much she loved her. Neither of them were people of heartfelt words, but Marya was sure she could’ve pulled them out if she knew it was the last time she’d see her; there was no way for Marya to prepare for her girlfriend to suddenly hop off the grid as if she were never there in the first place. It’s been a month since Hélène answered a text, almost two since they last saw each other. 

Anatole seemed to drag his feet nowadays; Marya tried to get whatever hints she could from him without actually exchanging words. Something about the younger boy always set off alarms in Marya’s head. No matter how much Hélène and her brother loved one another, Marya couldn’t force herself to cooperate with the blonde. Hélène always thanked her for the effort with a chaste kiss; had it not made her so happy, Marya never would’ve done it. He was cocky, carefree, and ignorant; his sense of reality and who was in it was skewed to an extent that made her want to rip her hair out. But even he looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, his posture slumped over despairingly. At least he was still in school, she noted on the occasions she actually saw him. They couldn’t say the same for his sister. 

Marya thought she could handle both aspects in one day, but after noticing teachers gave up calling Hélène’s name in the attendance and Anatoles glum look, she had ultimately cornered the youngest Kuragin right before he could leave the school. Anatole knew this conversation would be happening in a matter of time. “Is Hélène alright?” She asked immediately. 

“Alright I guess we aren’t doing cordiality then…” Anatole muttered, shifting his weight from foot to foot and not looking up into her eyes. “She’s taking care of our brother,” The Kuragins were almost threateningly good at eye contact; Marya recalled the first time she was with Helene alone as one of the most electrifying and intimidating experiences of her life. The girl’s eyes never left Marya’s as they were talking and it felt almost like a challenge to see if Marya could even take it. She could. She could stare into Hélène’s eyes forever. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make her question how the brunette could make her the only thing in the world. Yet she did it. Date after date, conversation after conversation, she knew she was going to be staring into brown eyes with a smile of serenity. It was one of the things Natasha fell for Anatole over. The way he made her feel so important with just a single glance that didn’t falter until the conversation was done. 

Similarly, the Kuragins could lie straight to your face, looking at you the same exact way they always did. She began to wonder only three weeks into Hélène’s absence if when she smiled and their lips collided that last night, and Helene pulled apart saying she’d see Marya on Monday if she knew it wasn’t going to be true. Anatole stood and didn’t look at her to say Hélène’s whereabouts. Anatole lied like a Kuragin: dead in the eyes. But he told the truth the same way. She couldn’t even try to decode what that meant; Marya wasn’t confident she’d want to know. So the redhead narrowed her eyes, arms crossing over her chest. “For two months?” She questioned, letting her suspicion show. Anatole gave a broken smile and didn’t respond other than that.

Marya took the moment to really  _ look  _ at Anatole. 

He swayed uneasily on his feet, eyes scanning the walls and the areas surrounding them. He took a half step back further into the corner any time she spoke, but looked more distressed than scared. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and dim. He carried himself as if every limb was a cements block, weighing him down to his spot. Every fiber of his being screamed that he didn’t want to be in the building, or anywhere for that matter. As if his own existence was a burden to himself. 

Marya cleared her throat stiffly. “Can I take you out to Dunkin?” Anatole blinked twice, this time not stepping away, but he frowned. “Tell your sister about it when you get home?” The corner of the boys mouth twitched, though he didn’t respond more than scuffling his shoes on the pavement. “Let’s go,” She gestured to the door behind him that led to the side parking lot. Without another word, Anatole nodded, moving out of her way so she would go through first. 

The car ride was awkward. Marya was trying to register that she was voluntarily letting Anatole Kuragin, the boy who broke her closest family friends heart, sit in her car. Having the intent to buy him anything felt surreal. Meanwhile, Anatole was thinking the same exact thing, but also the paranoia over what she was intending to say to him was enough to make him feel lightheaded. 

He got out of the car in a trance. He originally insisted on not getting anything but after a lot of persuasion ordered a simple donut and smiled in her direction. Anatole being polite was almost as weird as him being there with her. 

“I’m really sorry about-” “Are you okay?” The pause originally happened to let the other finish speaking, but then another silence came about as Anatole’s expression completely froze. He didn’t get asked that question except by two people in his entire life. Marya expected several reactions: and indignant huff, a pitched ‘Im fine!’ or a remark. She didn’t expect him to suddenly start crying. The blonde tried to be discrete, but he wasn’t good at holding back tears. He buried his face in his sleeves, not able to pull himself together despite the fact Marya was staring at him like she just discovered there was a zombie apocalypse outside. Fortunately, Marya was patient, a lot more patient than how Anatole knew her, and moved from the seat across from him to pulling her chair beside him, rubbing his back gently. 

She couldn’t reassure him. She didn’t know where she went wrong, but she knew the boy was worn beyond compare. Anatole slowly regained his composure, offering her another smile, although this one was more embarrassed than anything. “Sorry,” he sniffled. 

“You need a drink. What do you like?” She asked, and this time he gave an answer, looking down at his hands. She returned to the table, moving her chair back across from him. Once she cleared her throat, Anatole begin to prepare himself. “So you said Helene is caring for Ippolit? Why isn’t he at that school or whatever?” She asked, trying her best to be casual as she took a sip from her coffee. Anatole tried to mimic the tone, but it come out strained. 

“Just generally helping out at the house,” He took a sip, “My dads offices are being renovated so he sent some faculty overseas and he’s working from home,” Maybe she was looking too much into it, but it seemed as if his entire jaw clenched at the second part. 

“Why does this involve both Ippolit and Helene being home?” Anatole did not like that question. His entire body felt a shiver run through it and suddenly he was eyeing the door and every inch of the small store. 

“Helene is just his, uh...assistant,” He winced at the words, but didn’t correct them. “And I don’t understand about Ipp, to be honest,”

“Is she allowed to have visitors?” 

“No,” Anatole responded monotonously, sipping his Frappuccino, but suddenly there was a certain glimmer in his eye. “But I could always sneak you in if he’s out,” 

“Would you get in trouble? I don’t want that for you, Anatole-” She didn’t know the details of their family since Helene was so vague and secretive on it, but she also knew that no one flinched that hard at their girlfriend grabbing the side of their face for a kiss just by chance. 

“For Lena? You bet your ass I would,”

\------

Marya learned a lot about Anatole during the Dunkin adventure. She learned primarily that the boy actually had a heart and not just a sex drive. He was impulsive and rash, but he thought about his sister. He cared for her; something she was quite convinced Hélène was delusional for thinking because that boy seemed to love nothing aside from himself and his reflection. That boy loved Helene more than life itself. She also learned his number and the fact Anatole knew how to scale houses after he tried to tell her she could always do that to visit his sister after 3am. 

Driving up to a darkened Kuragin house was eerie, but nothing beat when Anatole came out to her car and showed her to the door in silence. He pointed at her shoes and Marya remembered the deal. 

She hadn’t been there in months, but somehow it looked like everything changed. While still tidy, a box of cereal was on a new wooden table in their kitchen. The living room was repainted grey and transformed into something like a cubicle. Things weren’t pin straight: picture frames tilted and a rug with a small desk rested on top was off center. It was small perfections but all things that used to drive Hélène absolutely mad. 

Once he’d shut the door, he cleared his throat and rested his shoes on the tray. In his sitting position on the tile floor, he yelled out “Lena! Come downstairs please!” She could hear childlike excitement in his voice, eyes shining like they used to, glancing to Marya giddily as as he heard a door shut. 

“What do yo-” Her eyes found Marya and she froze. Marya offered a faint smile, never having felt more nervous in her life. But suddenly the cup in her hand dropped to the floor and she bolted down the stairs, leaping into Marya’s arms. Hélène’s face buried into her neck, holding onto the other girl as if her life depended on it.

Marya held onto the girl tightly, taking in every ounce of her presence as if she wasn’t sure she’d ever have it again. Her perfume to the softness of her skin, Marya could’ve stayed like this forever. Hélène’s lips moved to form words but they were muffled by how tightly she embraced the girl she’d been missing for months. 

“I told you I would make your night, sister,” Suddenly Anatole’s over confident voice returned to its owner and he wore a small smirk. Helene pulled away by outstretching her arms, never fully letting go of the redhead. 

“I-how did-I love you,” was the only coherent thought Hélène could come up with in the shock of the moment. “Holy-I-you-I love you,” She repeated, her smile blinding with happiness. Marya managed to push the sight of bruises on her girlfriends jaw and cheek out of her mind only because of the pure joy written across her features. She saw Helene once more. She hugged her. She was here. Helene, her Helene, held her tight. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The transitions aren't exactly smooth, and I'm definitely still figuring out this whole fanfic thing, so if anyone has any feedback I'd great appreciate it :)


End file.
